


Define Loneliness

by Mizu7



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ballet drop out Amelie, F/F, Graffiti Tracer, Mutual Break Up, Numbness, Smoking, mentions of hate crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizu7/pseuds/Mizu7
Summary: She spent so much time, refusing to feel thinking it was showing strength.When it all falls apart Amelie leaves her life behind for a little alone time. In doing so she discovers the dirty back alley's of London are covered in emotions in the form of artistic expression, where the sky is grey but the walls exploded with color.She thought she wanted to be alone but perhaps that's not what she needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to robohero for letting me write out their specific Graffiti Tracer ideas. It was a ton of fun to collaborate and I hope to do it again someday! 
> 
> Also a big thank you to ochoafoxhunt who help fund this story into existence.

When choosing a spot to take a vacation London wasn’t exactly her first choice. It definitely wasn’t Paris, which was the point. After packing her things in an emotional scramble and running off to the nearest airport, she grabbed a flight with room just moments before it taking off without really looking at the destination. Just desperate to get away for awhile, she found herself in good old London.

Her boyfriend wasn’t too keen on any of this; he begged her to stop, but she kept packing even as he went on and on how irrational she was being. He was probably right- but as she threw her bags together, she bit her lip hard to prevent herself from showing any tears as she realized he was not stopping her. There had been a disconnect somewhere in the few years they had been together, something unseen that just didn’t feel the same as it did when they first moved in together. It was then, as she stood at the doorway with her bags hanging over her that she looked back and found him unmoving, watching with sad and knowing eyes. Without another word, she left. 

She spoke only the necessary short sentences to get onto the plane, and spoke to no one as Paris went behind her and London came on the horizon.  

Again, not her first choice, but after she left the plane and walked out into the city without another voice telling her what to do next she realized she was alone for the first time in years.

And it was amazing.

For the first time she wasn’t surrounded by judging eyes that watched her every step, or hushed whispers of gossip by her peers and fellow cast mates. Ballet was no place for the weak, and she knew that above all. But after being denied a part that was rightfully hers for a much younger woman who was less skilled on stage and more willing to do more than get on her knees for the part -Again-, Amelie snapped and walked away from the life she spent years working, bleeding, and sweating for.

She needed to get away and be alone.

The first thing she did upon leaving the airport was a purchase a small disposable lighter and a pack of cigarettes. She chose to quit to pursue her career, but none of that mattered now and Good God did she need to smoke.

She found a decent little hotel- not at all like the extravagant suites she was used to with her troupe, but there was a charm to the simplicity of it she rather enjoyed. But most importantly, it had a balcony. She immediately dropped her things and made a beeline for the glass sliding door with a cigarette in her mouth.

She practically melted into the chair after the first long drag, letting it all out with a long sigh of relief, watching the smoke rush out past her lips as if all the care and worries in her body went with it. Dissipating into thin air.

Thus starting her vacation.

She purposely picked her hotel outside of typical London, behind buildings with years of history and museums containing it all was the true heart of the city. Homes, people living their lives away from the tourist traps and going about their business. Amelie loved it; taking in her new independence, walking around neighborhoods and local shops at her own pace.

Buying new clothes, spending hours at cafes with a book or two, enjoying herself by herself.

She received only one text from Gerard.

 

**Are you safe?**

 

  * __Read: 2:45pm__



 

 

**Yes**

 

  * __Read: 5:56pm__



 

 

And that was that. 

A couple of days into her adventure on a whim she decided to take the long way into the neighborhood. Taking the back route away from the Main Street, making her way from the hotel towards the little cafe she had grown to love, she had a new book tucked away in her arms as she began to fish for her lighter. 

**Pssshhhhhhhhhh psssshhhhssshhhhhh**

She stopped.

The very distinct noise of hissing from an aerosol can was slightly amplified from the alley she was a few feet from approaching. It was common to see spray painted art on the walls of dark back streets, but never before had she seen an artist at work.

If that’s what you wanted to call them. She never really had an opinion of kids with no job and copious amounts of spray paint fumes in their lungs. Honestly, she had no desire to meet one.

She continued on her way, her heels clicking and scraping against the pavement just hard enough to suddenly cause the spraying to stop. By the time she reached the opening of the alley, she could barely make out a blur of blue that disappeared over and behind the fence down the way leaving behind several cans and an unfinished mural still dripping.

She rolled her eyes and had every intention to continue on until a double take stopped her in her tracks.

A curious brow was raised as a beautiful depiction of a nude woman just barely clothed in drapes of colors like a satin sheet lay across the brick wall looming several feet above her.

“Oh la la~”

Below it was a signature, the letter in a tight formation of style but still legible in orange spray paint.

 

**Tracer**

 

Other obnoxious colors grabbed her attention. Along the entire wall down into the alley were more large murals: of people and things, mostly large signatures like marking territory. But this particular square of space was left untouched, save for the beautiful woman and small signature of the artist named Tracer. 

She had nowhere to be- no call times, rehearsals, meetings, or obligations. So she walked into the alleyway, past the trash- thankful it smelled of spray paint than any thing much worse- leaned back against the wall directly across from the art, lit her cigarette and jammed her hands into her leather jacket, staring at the woman as if it were a piece in an art museum.

It really was beautiful, a soft round face, eyes shut in a calm and peaceful manner, posed as if on a lounge chair. She appeared to be so content, and just by staring at her Amelie herself began to feel that way as well. Relaxed.

She remained there until her cigarette was done, dropping what was left and stomping it out with her heel before moving on.

Too entranced with the art, however, she failed to realized she was being watched.

 

* * *

 

A gap between the old wooden fence nearly a yard from her work space was more than enough to let the artist peek at the newcomer.

Which was annoying at first; she made it a point to do her work while the neighborhood was quiet and empty. She knew it well and memorized every busy bee on the block- when they would leave for work or school, and when they would return. But then this woman shows up and throws her off her schedule.

But after a few days, she found it rather flattering.

The woman would light a cigarette and spend the duration staring at her work. Sometimes, if a piece truly captivated her, she would burn her cigarette to its completion and stomp it out before the wall as if some kind of offering or compliment, her time well spent. Other times, she would shrug and walk away, or smoke for a bit and leave when she became bored.

However, she quickly was realized her nude pieces would earn two cigarette butts.

Which almost turned it into a game; now that she had a judge, Tracer took to her art like she had been challenged.

And so that evening she brushed aside the trash and painted a marble white ashtray on the ground exactly beside where the woman normally leaned against the wall, emphasizing the shadows along the edges to make it appear real to who ever looked down at it. Grabbing the left over butts from previous days and placed them “inside” like a hint.

She watched from behind the fence as the woman grinned from ear to ear when she found it.

“How kind of you Tracer.” She said aloud, and promptly dropped her finished cigarette within the fake tray and stomped it out.

Much to her delight, the game was set.

One day she felt herself in a particularly happy mood, and painted depictions of animals in bright colors and abstract forms. Which earned not even half a pile of ash.

The next day she tried for something bigger, a beautiful blue falcon, massive and foreboding, glaring at all who passed by which earned a small nod of approval from the mystery smoker. Tracer watched from her hiding spot and witnessed the woman’s eyes slowly trail downward, and her surprised reaction that the falcon wasn’t just intimidating but protective, as a small yellow bird sat innocently and content under blue feathers.

At this she leaned back against the wall and lit her cigarette. Tracer grinned behind her mask, stepping away from the fence to punch the air in victory.

The following day however she couldn’t help but feel a little blue, just one of those days when her normal work life just wasn’t as exciting or fulfilling as her artistic life. Which she realized was an understatement as she held the can up to the wall and began to create. Even as she finished she was taken aback at the dark colors and intensity of her creation but before she could take it all back those familiar high heels were approaching.

As Tracer took to her spot behind the fence, gracefully climbing over the fence and dropping behind it, she quietly watched as the woman just… Stopped.

She barely took out her lighter when her eyes caught sight of what at first appeared as a round black ball of dark paint but the longer she stared at it the more captivated she became. Unable to take her eyes away from it, she stood directly in front of the wall and stared.

The black hole of paint seemed to be sucking in and engulfed bright colors that just barely peaked through the tendrils of black around the edges, snuffing them out until directly center was nothing but the void. Tracer feared this one would earn no more than a shrug, but she watched as the woman tilted her head to the side and made an audible gasp. Her eyes widening with the realization that within the darkness was a vague silhouette of a person. Curled up in a fetal position, their back to the observer, arms wrapped around themselves and clutching their head in desperation to keep the dark in… Or out. But it was futile, they were drowning in the darkness.

The woman stood there utterly still, cigarette and lighter in her grasp but she made no movement to do anything but stare.

They may have never exchanged words before, but there was something deep in her gut that said maybe, just maybe, this stranger had felt the way her painting was expressing.

Without warning, she dropped an entire untouched cigarette in the ash tray and walked away.

She waited until the heels were unheard to hop back over the fence though she was going slower than usual seemingly lost in thought.

Staring down at the painted tray of cigarette butts that were now piled up and topped with the full stick she couldn’t even smoke due to her distraction, Tracer decided it was time to meet her fan.

 

* * *

 

Amelie returned the following day to a clean ashtray and a new art piece. 

Of which she did a double take. 

There on the wall today was the profile of a woman, about the length of her own arm span outwards and tall, bare shoulders and up. Light purple skin and intense yellow eyes with a sharp jawline and to top it all off a familiar dark high ponytail and a cigarette in her fingers. 

Amelie smiled and leaned back against the wall, today this one earned a smoke and a photograph. Slipping her phone out from her back pocket, she quickly snapped a quick shot of what was clearly a little gift to her.

“Whatcha lookin at?”

Amelie froze for a moment, at first glancing at the fence where she would sometime catch a blur of someone leaping away, but a small cough from above corrected her.

Sure enough sitting at the edge of the fire escape with her legs dangling in the air was a masked person in a blue hoodie who smiled with her eyes.

“Hope you plan on crediting the artist before you post that mate. Some sites are shit at catchin’ art thieves.” She laughed, her voice just slightly muffled from the mask. 

Amelie raised a brow up at the girl, slipping her phone away, “Says the artist who defaces public property?”

“If you call defacing making it better, then yeah. ‘Sides, I’m job security for poor old Matt- who else is gonna keep painting over me so I got a new slate, huh?”

She shook her head but smiled regardless, “How noble of you.”

“So, I got a question or two,” She started, leaning over resting her chin on her fist, her head cocked to the side curiously down at her, “What’s a handsome bird like yourself doin’ here? Never seen you before. London gallery is that way.”

Tracer nodded towards the general direction of one of the many galleries in London. They were free, and the train station hit nearly everyone but, Amelie just shrugged. 

“Too far, and they don’t allow smoking, so can’t have that… Speaking of which, thanks for the ash tray.” 

“I’m environmentally conscious thank you, only the green stuff for me.” Tracer nodded, proudly tapping on the cans strapped to her black vest. 

“Now I have a question.”

“All ears.”

“What brings you out here all of a sudden? We had a nice thing going.”

“I agree, but I have a big art piece planned next week and I figured now would be a good time to meet. I usually don’t do art while people are watching so I won’t be able to finish with you comin’ by.”

Which explained why she usually ran away before Amelie got too close to catch more than a glimpse of her- but still she didn’t mean for her shoulders to sag so much. 

“So you… Want me to leave?”

Tracer’s hands immediately shot upwards as if to stop her. “No way! Are you kiddin’ me? I want you to stay! I wanna get used to painting with an audience! ‘Sides, I’ve made my best pieces with you around.” 

Amelie blinked back in surprise as the artist seemed to be bouncing in her seat. “Nice thing about you, you’re not from here, so you don’t know who I am or care, and you haven’t called the bobbies on me yet, so I think I can trust you. Whatcha say?”

It wasn’t like she had much going on anyway, and so Amelie lit her cigarette and got comfy. 

“I say you have a piece to finish here, cherie.” 

Tracer’s eyes behind the orange tinted mask lit up with excitement. Slipping out of the fire escape and swinging herself over to the ladder with practiced grace, she slid down and jumped off, landing hard on the ground. 

“Tracer!” she introduced herself properly; her gloved hand out awaiting a handshake, but she quickly realized it was covered in splotches of paint and slipped her glove off, offering her bare hand instead. 

She smiled and took it in a firm shake, ”Amelie.” 

Tracer completed the piece before she was done with her cigarette, though that was mostly due to the small talk. Which Amelie was never one for but found it rather pleasant, she was easy to talk to and Tracer continued to reply over her spraying, not once taking her eyes away from her work. 

“The falcon and the yellow bird?” 

“Friends of mine!” Tracer replied, one hand holding herself steady on the wall as the other struggled to reach up and spray as high as she could; the poor girl was rather short, but it was amusing to watch. 

“One of ‘em’s my mate Angie, such a cutie that one, and her girl is just this huge muscle woman that would sooner crack your neck if you so much as look at Angie the wrong way. So, sometimes I will paint stuff of how I perceive people to be, and that’s how that one happened!” She laughed, excited to have someone to talk to about her work. Most of the time she had to run away from cops or avoid people altogether- her mask wasn’t foolproof and she knew that. If anyone found out who she was… Well, there was a small reward for her capture. The city didn’t take to a liking to her work, but at least Matt the street cleaner didn’t mind, and it kept him employed. 

 

“And the other one… About depression?” 

 

Tracer stopped mid-spray. 

 

“Had an off day?” 

 

She finally turned around, for a moment Amelie couldn’t read her eyes. 

 

“Sounds like you’ve had one of those before.” 

 

“You would be correct.” 

 

And that was it. Tracer’s eyes softened and nodded slightly, like a quiet agreement she continued to work while Amelie watched in a comfortable silence. 

 

Soon she stopped, stepping back and looked over her wall. Satisfied, she quietly walked back towards Amelie and leaned against the brick right next to her. 

 

Amelie tilted her head to one side, a small hum of approval.

 

“... So what’s the story behind this one?”

 

Alongside the purple woman, Tracer added beautiful long tendrils of white smoke from her lips that swirled upwards around her head. Towards the end, the smoke formed a cloudy hand that held a lit match to the woman’s cigarette. 

 

“... You smoke a lot…” 

 

For the first time in months, Amelie laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

This continued on for days. 

 

Amelie would visit in the morning until noonish, quietly observing as Tracer painted beautiful works of art before her eyes and judgement. She would always greet her with obnoxious waving and excitement behind the mask as she turned the corner. She wouldn’t start until there was a lit cigarette in her hand and leaned against the wall in her usual spot. 

 

“Ballet? You for real?!” 

 

Somehow, they began to actually talk. 

 

“Oui,” she teased, taking a long drag before releasing it in the form of a long sigh, ”But not anymore.” 

 

Amelie found herself to be comfortable with this complete stranger, perhaps for the same reason Tracer also felt at ease letting her watch when no one else had ever seen the elusive graffiti artist at work before.

 

“What happened? If ya don’t mind me askin’.”

 

They were complete strangers, no judgements or reservations, and they had nothing to go off of other than that they enjoyed each other’s company. 

 

“Some dancers work hard for what they deserve, some dancers find loopholes…”

 

Tracer stopped mid-swipe of spray for a moment, turning only slightly to finally look back at her audience. “Oh Christ, did someone snog the director? “ 

 

Amelie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “... Something like that.” 

 

She snorted, shaking her head, “That’s movie quality villian work right there,” she said while finishing the line of spray before putting the can down on the ground. Turning on her heel, she grabbed a box from behind a trash can and placed it in front of the wall, moving it with the tip of her shoe, constantly looking upwards at the wall to make sure it was in the right place. 

 

“What about you? Clearly you’re not doing this for money.” 

 

Tracer stepped up on the box and continued to spray, now at a new level. ”I wish, but that would ruin it if I did this for money I think.” 

 

She shrugged. “I’m just another average citizen- retail work of all things. Real boring. Real stressful. Hate every moment of it, but gotta buy paint somehow.” She sighed before hopping off her box and nudging it aside. 

 

With the last final touch of her signature in bright orange underneath her art, Tracer stepped aside to show her judge the final product. 

 

“God I hate spiders,” Amelie said, but with a tilt of her head and smile in her voice as her eyes scanned the wall. 

 

“Me too! Freaky little things.” Tracer laughed, bringing her hand up and wiggling her fingers like an eight legged arachnid. 

 

“So why paint one?” 

 

“Sometimes as an artist you gotta challenge yourself to make stuff you’re afraid of or don’t really like.”

 

Amelie nodded, humming to herself in agreement. 

 

“... Also, you remind me of a spider so…” 

 

At this she blinked in surprise. “Me?” 

 

“Yeah! You’re all cool and watchin’ me; ‘sides now that I know you’re a dancer that explains the legs for days.” She emphasized this by motioning to her legs; her high heels didn’t help, but no one here was complaining.

 

“So, what’s the rating here boss?”

 

Amelie crossed her arms in thought, staring at the black spider, pointed and stylized to be sharp and narrow. She had been called many things in the past, of course that came with the territory of being constantly on a pedestal in the spot light, graceful and beautiful. 

 

But a spider? Something about the way they moved was unsettling; too many eyes that are always watching, silent and sometimes deadly, the perfect hunters that refer solitude above else. Yet they were so fascinating from afar… Much like herself actually. 

 

Very much how people had perceived her in the past. 

 

Beautiful from a distance, but kept at arm’s length. Even her relationship with Gerard was only skin deep at the end of the day, and they knew it. 

 

Suddenly Amelie’s shoulders tensed as an overwhelming need to do something against her norm rose up in her chest like bile. 

 

She dropped the cigarette butt on the usual ashtray of good reviews, then slipped her phone out. 

 

“I’m putting this on my body.” She said as she took a photo then walked away, leaving Tracer dumbfounded and slightly warm. 

 

* * *

 

 

“If it makes you feel any better, the show is doing terrible.”

 

She offered a dry laugh, ”It helps a little but… That’s not the point.”

 

“Amelie, you’ve been gone for a long time. How much longer do you need to sulk?” 

 

“This isn’t me sulking this is… Something I need… I think… I don’t know…”

 

“Please come home.”

 

She had half a mind to agree, just out of habit, to let someone else decide for her, but she shook her head against the phone, “Not yet. I still need more time to myself.”

 

He sighed but didn’t fight it, didn’t even try. ”... If… that’s what you think is best.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hold on… You’ve been together for how long and he hasn’t popped the question yet?” 

 

Amelie chose to sit on the ground this time, her legs outstretched and cigarette still burning in her grasp as she watched Tracer do her business. It was gloomy today in London- shocker- but there was a heaviness in the air she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Like a storm on the way, but so far in the distance people chose to ignore it, a problem for the future and not now. 

 

“Four years and no… At first we felt like we didn’t need to. We already live together and act like we are married.” 

 

“Yeah but… I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but the commitment means something more when there’s a ring on your finger? I guess that’s kinda materialistic, but it’s like… Becomes a physical thing at that point and means something to everyone- I just...” Tracer fell silent for a moment, her arms dropping from her painting and if Amelie didn’t know any better she seemed to be nervously fiddling with her own hands. 

 

She spoke so softly behind her mask Amelie nearly missed it. 

 

“If I had the chance I would… But… I can’t so…”  

 

Silence sat heavy between the two, but strangely it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

 

With a short huff, Tracer turned around. Amelie had snuffed out her cigarette moments ago, the last tendrils of smoke slowly disappearing into the atmosphere as she stared down at her bare left hand. 

 

“H… Hey if you don’t want to talk about it-”

 

“I… Don’t get to talk to anyone about this…” A flash of realization crossed her face as she looked up.

 

“Tracer, I think you’re my only friend.” 

 

“Oh God help you and your soul, mate.” 

 

She laughed, shaking her head and waving her hand, indicating a motion to continue what she was doing. 

 

“I’ll take what I can get.” 

 

Spinning the can in her grasp she rotated her stiff shoulder before reaching up and beginning to spray again, outlining a beautiful purple rose in thin black lines, “Well, I’m all ears if you need it, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”  

 

At first she said nothing, pulling her knees up to rest her arms across them as she watched a large black widow be formed upon the rose. It’s long spindly legs gave her the chills as it appeared to be climbing the stem. 

 

“I think… We just… Fell in love with the idea of each other and now we’re just… Existing in the same place.”

 

She stood back and stared at the art for a moment, seemingly taking in her words before deciding what to do next. 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that love, sounds like a sinking ship that you better jump off of before you drown.” 

 

Tracer reached into her vest and pulled out a can of white, shaking it slightly before adding short spurts of what eventually became thick webs around the petals. 

 

“Honestly, I think I am already… Or I wouldn’t be in another country smoking until my lungs are black.” She laughed, casually playing with the lighter in her grasp, watching the flames flicker in and out of existence. 

 

“What about you?”

 

“Ah nah…Just me riding solo. This area doesn’t take to kindly to…. Well, people like me, and if I did have someone special...I wouldn’t want my girl to get in trouble because of me anyway so...” 

 

She shrugged, stepping back admiring her work for the day.  

 

Amelie rolled her eyes, as if she were some kind of art vigilante; then again, she did technically have an alter ego. 

 

“Quite the noble romantic, you are.”

 

“I try!” she laughed. 

 

Stashing the lighter away, Amelie patted the area beside her, quietly indicating a seat up for grabs. Without a moment to spare, Tracer quickly plopped beside her, leaning back against the wall, looking back at her creation from Amelie’s perspective. 

 

The city continued on around them, cars rumbling by, people walking about their lives, trains speeding off, tourists coming and going, but for a moment they remained still and silent. Quietly staring at the stillness of a purple rose and a large spider, bold colors against the grey sky. 

 

“You… Deserve better.” Amelie mumbled softly. 

 

“So do you.”

 

* * *

 

“Amelie you’ve been gone for weeks, when are you coming home?”

 

They were drowning, she could feel it. 

 

“I don’t… I don’t know.. .until I’m ready I guess…” She sighed, grasping her face as she struggled to find an answer. A reason. Something, anything to validate any of this. But as he groaned in frustration she felt her heart drop into the ocean with her. 

 

“Ame please, come home, I’m sure if you speak with-”

 

“Gerard… Stop…”

 

The silence between them lay thick with dread. 

 

“You know this isn’t working.”

 

“It… We… Can fix this… Can’t we?” There was a lack of strength in his question; he stopped trying and so did she. 

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“I am too.“

 

“Do you want to take a break… Or…”

 

“It might be better if we-”

 

“I understand.” 

 

She felt numb. Holding the phone in her grasp, watching the light die out as he hung up without another word. 

 

It was familiar though; unable to feel, she felt as though she had to as she worked tirelessly and pretended to love. 

 

But something broke, something in the back of her mind. A floodgate of emotions and feelings she had built up and held in, mistaking it for strength, just shattered. 

 

She grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.  

 

 

* * *

 

 “Hey Amelie! I got coffee but I wasn’t sure how you liked it so-”

The cup in her hand was promptly swiped out of her grasp and immediately guzzled down. Tracer froze, watching in a mix of horror and impressive wonder at this until Amelie finally stopped once it was gone. She panted heavily, coughing several times as her eyes began to search the cup for answers.

“Hey, are you-”

Without warning she drew back and threw the cup into the alley with a short yell. 

Tracer very slowly took two steps backwards as the once cool and calm french woman began to pace and curse at the grey sky for two solid minutes, shaking and anxiously running her hand through her hair or tugging at her jacket, unable to decide what to do with her hands in this state. 

Finally she stopped, still breathing heavily. she looked right past Tracer and marched forward before dropping into her usual spot, holding her face in her hands, settling in with a long shudder.

“…Are… You okay?” She asked so gently it nearly went unheard.

Amelie sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, her head thumping back against the brick wall repeatedly in thought before she finally answered.

“It’s over.” she laughed, a sad pathetic laugh to cover up the hole in her chest. “I saw it coming… We both did, but it still hurts like a bitch.”

Tracer’s shoulders sagged; putting aside the bag of pastries, she careful knelt in front of her, mindful of the space but close enough to be sincere.

“God Amelie, I’m so sorry… If you need to be alone or somethin’ you don’t have to be here.”

“…I…” she paused, staring back at the girl. She wanted to be alone, despite always feeling lonely. Surrounded by her fellow dancers and managers, her choreographers and Gerard. She felt as if she needed to be by herself, but now that it was hers, truly isolated, she realized she had always been alone.

But then there was this girl, who gave Amelie the space she needed and let her to come to when she wanted to on her terms.

“No, I want to stay.”

“Should I draw something kinda happy…? I know it’s not your style but-”

“No…” She shook her head. “Paint what you see and feel, like usual…” She offered a small smile as she nodded back towards the blank canvas, compliments of Matt the wall cleaner.

“I need to see it too.”

Without another word, Tracer grabbed the bag of pastries and put it beside the now-full ashtray, then pulled out a brand new lighter as she noticed the struggle she was having the previous day.

For the next few hours Amelie quietly smoked and ate breakfast while a story was being told on the side of the building.

A story she knew very well. 

Tracer pulled together boxes and cans to get the angle just right but soon there were three silhouettes outlined on the wall, each with no discernible facial features.

Of a man, dancing with a beautiful woman in a black tutu and purple skin and hair pulled up on a familiar pony tail. But connected to the dancer by the foot was an elongated white shadow of another girl in a white tutu who sat on the ground and wept.

“He loved the idea of you,” She started, “that’s what you said, right?”

Amelie remained still, ash dropping from the end of her cigarette as it dangled from between her fingers. She stopped breathing in the nicotine to wipe her nose and tears with the napkins covered in pastry. 

“I mean I know it’s not exactly the story, but it reminded me of it.”

Swan Lake, Act 3.

Odette and Odile.

Tracer spun around just as Amelie knocked her head back and took a long swig of a flask she had pulled out of her jacket. 

“Careful love, every homeless bloke in five blocks can smell that.”

Amelie smiled slightly, lifting the flask up and offering it to the artist as she patted the ground beside her, she didn’t want to drink alone.

Tracer’s eyes lit up, quickly plopping on the ground right next to her and taking the flask. Carefully lifting the bottom of her mask from her face she tilted her head back for a quick swig.

She made a noise, tensing up and slapping the mask back over her face to force herself to swallow it down.

“Is… Is this wine?”

“Red.”

“God, you’re ridiculous.” She coughed, but Amelie laughed. 

Without warning she leaned over to the side and dropped her head against Tracer’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as she felt Tracer’s head lean against hers in a comforting manner. 

“Adieu mon cher,” she mumbled, lazily throwing what was left of her cigarette at the wall. 

Amelie cried. 

On the dirty floor, in between trash cans in an alleyway in London. Curled up with her knees to her chest she sobbed into her balled fists against her face, shaking and overwhelmed with the emotions she’d fought so hard to keep in. 

And Tracer held her close, without uttering a single word she remained there until she was done.

Suddenly feeling not as alone as she had been for years.  

 

* * *

 

Tracer had been planning a massive mural for nearly a month, but refused to say what it was or her ideas about it. Just that it was something world needed to see.

Though unsure at first, the longer Amelie stayed in London and sat at numerous cafes along the street and was among the people, she began to pick up the pieces.

There was no coincidence- Tracer planned on making this masterpiece during a time where decisions were to be made that would change things for the better or worse for certain groups of people, and tensions were high.

But as requested, Amelie made her way towards the usual alley later on in the day to give the artist more time to work on it; the plan was to have an artistic meditating time to her lonesome with the canvas. Although Amelie just had a feeling she wanted to surprise her, Tracer would be giddy with excitement every time she was asked about it and hide her sketchbook away anytime Amelie would turn the corner. Which alone was odd; as far as she knew, she never planned her graffiti, but just did what she felt like at the time.

Taking the short route into the local cafe she picked up lunch, the least she could do for her their last encounter and emotional outburst. Though it was very cathartic, it still hurt, and it was going to for awhile. But she booked a flight for home in a week to pack up her things from the apartment in Paris and start over. Though she thoroughly enjoyed her time doing nothing, reality was coming for her.

A loud clash of a trash can being thrown violently against a wall snapped her back into said reality. A cruel one.

Loud cursing and a short yelp of pain from within the alley, her alley, was heard. Amelie’s heart dropped and the moment she spotted two figures stumble out of the opening she hugged the wall with her back to avoid being detected. Two men, one clutching his face with a bloody hand struggled to find his balance as hot tears streaked down his face, his nose clearly shattered and eye purple and black. The other man screamed into the alley, his chest and face covered in purple spray paint, throwing a familiar orange tinted mask against the wall before grabbing the other man and running away.

Amelie froze, waiting for the two to be out of sight before taking off into a sprint, scooping up the mask as she went. The orange tint was cracked with blood on the inside.

“Tracer?!”

A wave of deja vu washed over her as she look into the alley, where a body lay on the ground, back to her in a fetal position, shuddering and coughing as she held herself. Amelie ran forward, dropping to her knees beside her.

“Tracer hey hey it’s me,” she cooed, carefully nudging her shoulder to turn over to assess the damage.

Blood trickled down across her bruised covered cheek where the crack of the mask had sliced a large gash on the bridge of her nose, spilling over her split lip. She coughed and groaned, clutching her chest in pain as she fought to open her eyes.

She wheezed, blinking hard before realizing her mask was gone and face exposed, “…Purple lipstick? Really?” she groaned, now able to see actual colors. 

Amelie shook her head and laughed as she lifted the broken mask up for her to see, “And you have freckles- how adorable.”

“Piss off, I'm a badass,” she hissed, pushing herself upwards on her elbows.

Amelie quickly reached into the lunch bag, finding several napkins she held them together against her nose to stop the bleeding but Tracer pulled back and yelped in pain.

“De sole Cherie…” she mumbled- trying again, but gentler, ”...What happened?”

Tracer stayed silent for a moment, looking away from her and towards the opening of the alley.

“Harsh critics…”

Amelie followed her gaze, she had run right past the mural and hadn’t realized it. With a stubborn grunt Tracer pushed herself up and stood, wobbly at first but pressed on, clutching her ribs and limped back with Amelie hot on her tail.

Wrapping an arm around her waist carefully, Amelie helped her stand before a massive and beautiful multicolor mural. A tall ladder flat on its side on the ground with bags of spray cans thrown open and several trash cans turned over with contents spilling out beside them showed signs of a struggle here.

The wall was covered in ribbons of rainbows with beautiful depictions of two men in an embrace and two women only holding each other close. But before any real details were added, harsh red lines were sprayed across the mural covering the bright colors and defacing it with ugly words but half way into “DIE” it was abruptly stopped, Amelie made a quick guess this was around the time one of the men had his nose broken. 

“I’m… So sorry Trace-”

“Lena.” She said, turning slightly with a sheepishly smile on her face, “My name is Lena.”

Amelie smiled softly. 

“And I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything.” 

Reaching into the pocket of her hoodie she pulled out her phone, making a small noise realizing the screen had been cracked in the scuffle, but held it out to her. 

“Could you record me writing a message?”

She stared at her for a moment, almost taken aback by the seriousness in her eyes but still took the small device as its camera function was open and ready. 

“A message? To who?” 

Lena smiled and very slowly scooped up a can of orange spray paint. 

“Everyone.” 

Slipping on the broken mask, she flipped her hoodie up and over her head, her persona returned as she nodded to her audience. 

Amelie stood with her back against the wall, exactly where she normally would be to watch the artist at work. With the camera out she began to record as Lena stepped forward, looking up at her mural. 

She stared at the ugly red paint that desecrated her creation. She had been sketching ideas and planning for weeks, only to have it destroyed for the very reason she put it there. Tracer let out a long sigh but tensed her shoulders and puffed out her chest as she spun the can in her grasp and began to spray. 

**LOVE.**

Amelie watched as Tracer wrote out each letter, bold and bright over the red paint, not enough to cover it completely but just enough to be larger and stronger than it’s words of hate. 

**WILL.**

For the first time others will see what Amelie was lucky enough to witness everyday, and yet after days of watching, days of different pieces of wall art, days of her various moods and inspirations, Amelie knew this was to be her favorite. 

**WIN.**

Finishing it off with her signature at the bottom, she stepped away out of frame of the camera and let Amelie step forward, recording a few seconds of just the message from Tracer to the public. 

“You are truly something else.” She laughed, giving the phone back as Lena slipped her mask and hood off. 

“I’d rather my art be the martyr than some kid at a march.” She shrugged. Finding the wooden box she used as a step stool still behind a trashcan, she carefully plopped down on it, carefully touching her nose and inspecting the blood on her fingers, ”Guess old Matt will have his work cut out for ‘im.” 

Amelie stood there dumbfounded as Lena just laughed it off, not as bright and cheerful she normally would be, but as she kept on with a beautiful goofy grin Amelie couldn’t look away from her, now that there was no mask in between them. 

Lena’s eyes scanned the alley in search of the napkins, but upon finding the paper bag abandoned for a political statement her eyes lit up, “... Oh… You brought food?! For me? Really?”

“I… Don’t understand you…” she started, retrieving the bag and napkins, ”...How can you just… Bounce back from this?” 

 

Taking the napkins, she held them to the bridge of her nose- it stopped bleeding eventually as she hummed in thought. “I mean, I’m sure there is some kinda heroic or noble way of putting it, but honestly… People fucking suck.”

 

“People might want me silent, or dead, but screw that noise, I’m staying and I’m not going down without a fight… Just out of spite, because fuck ‘em.” 

 

Amelie stood very still for a moment as Lena put the bloody napkins aside and grinned. 

 

Literally beaten and bruised, but she continued to smile. Because someone out there was seething with anger just at her very existence, and that brought her joy. 

 

Without warning she reached out with both hands and grasped each side of her face, pulling her in and meeting her lips in the middle. 

 

Lena froze, more than ready to fall right into it- because honestly she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this very moment repeatedly- but the cut on her bottom lip began to sting, so she reluctantly pulled back and hissed in pain, but remained close. Staring at her with questions hanging on her lips, but Amelie was smiling. 

 

“My hotel is down the street, we are going to get you patched up and you’re going to find where on my body I put your art. Sound like a plan?” 

 

Lena blinked, thinking for a moment maybe she was kicked in the head harder than she thought if she was hearing this right.

  
“Are… Are you sure? I mean hey, I’m totally up for snogging after some homophobes are licking their wounds, but… Are you okay?” 

 

In a week she would be gone, starting her life over, and starting now it would be on her own terms and in her control. 

 

“I don’t want to be alone,” she said, her thumb brushing across her freckled cheeks, ”...And I don’t think you do either.” 

 

Lena grinned, her hands tugging at her belt to sit on her lap. It was going to be a nice week. 


	2. Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have turned for the better though the adjustments might take some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention of continuing this AU, I felt like it was nice where it was but I went to Atlanta for the first time and walked around downtown hanging out with amazing people and had a experience that I just had to write down. But in the process, it turns out Lena and Amelie had more to say so here we are. 
> 
> Dedicated to Rachel and Allison (who I drunkenly promised to add her in my story)

“Dear Lord….” 

Lena paused a moment,”...uh well it’s uh been some time and I know I have quite a few things to uh atone for…is atone the right word? Anyway the point is, I have’nt asked for a single thing in my life,” her hands clasped together tightened as she squeezed her eyes shut and continued to pray. 

“But holy shit  _ please please plea- _ ” 

The door swung open nearly smacking Lena in the face, had she not jumped out of the way at the last moment. Amelie stared at her for a long moment in surprise, shocked to see her there and wasn’t given time to question it as Lena ran in front of her with big hopeful eyes.

“How did it go?! Did it go ok?! Is this awkward? I just ran over as soon as I got your text and I thought maybe I could be here as support or maybe if it didn’t go well we can go get food until we forget it ever happened? Was this a terrible idea? This might have been a terrible idea oh my god. I have been out here praying to a deity I haven’t talked to in years maybe this was a sign and now he’s upset with me and this is punishme-” 

Lena fell deathly silent as Amelie placed a single finger over her lips, requesting silence with a look and a small smirk. With a slight nod she walked away, indicating that she wished to be followed, and  Lena did so like a lost puppy. 

With the graffiti artist close behind her, Amelie adjusted the small duffle bag around her shoulder and walked away from the small dance studio. Lena remained quiet, keeping her lips sealed tight until Amelie turned into an alleyway nearly a block away, even though she was confused and curious. Amelie turned on her heel, facing Lena and letting out a long sigh she seemed to have been holding in for some time. 

“I’m in” she said, her voice was calm and face impassive. 

But as Lena’s face burst into a massive smile she couldn’t help but crack and smile as well. 

“THANK FUCKING GOD,” Lena shrieked, wrapping her arms around Amelie tightly and lifting her up off her feet for a small single spin around. 

“Damn right! I knew it! They’d be absolutely daft to not!” she grinned, putting her back down on the ground only to reach up and pull at her shirt to bring her down for a quick kiss. 

Lena may not have a single idea about ballet but she knew people who knew people and knew where those people went. When Amelie returned to France to pack up her things from Gerard’s place, she stayed with her parents for only a week before she received a selfie of Lena in a pub with a man next to her, face first on bar and a drink in his hand.

Apparently he came in to drink his sorrows away at Lena’s favorite spot and she was there to comfort him with a sympathetic ear and pat on the back. Finding out he was a director in search for someone to replace his prima donna ballerina was like striking gold. She immediately fished out her phone, took the photo, then proceeded to rant and rave about Amelie, showing him videos of her performances she searched for online.

Amelie had jumped on the next plane to London and went straight for the dance studio. 

She now walked out with a part in the Royal Ballet Troupe. 

“Thank you Lena, this wouldn’t have happened if you-”

Lena laughed, waving her off, “Oh pfft, come on you know you would have found out sooner or later. I just gave you a few steps before the others.” 

“Lena shut up and take my gratitude,” Amelie huffed, yanking on the strings of her jacket, causing the hood to close in over her head and eyes. Amelie laughed, turning on her heel and walking away as Lena scrambled to pull the tight hood off of her face and follow. 

“Did you miss me?!” she asked excitedly, her arms wrapping around her middle with her face pressed against her back, awkwardly walking with her down the street. 

“We texted every ten minutes.” 

Lena made a small grunt noise from behind, releasing her grip just to slip her duffle bag from Amelie’s shoulder and onto her own before walking beside her with a small pout. 

“Well, I missed you,” Lena huffed, holding her hand out, opening and closing it as a quiet request for it to be filled. 

Amelie smiled, shaking her head in feigned annoyance but took her hand, tangling her fingers with Lena’s and squeezing tightly.

“I did miss this.”

Lena grinned, playfully swinging their linked hands a bit as they continued to walk down the street with no location in mind, they had been apart for much too long. 

“We should celebrate! This is huge!” 

Amelie hummed to herself, Lena did not miss the tone in her voice, “Well I am staying in the same hotel as last time...it’s not too far.” 

Lena coughed, tugging her hoodie back on to hide the blush growing on her cheeks. 

“Ok well...yes that should definitely be a thing but I mean we should go out? Do something? This is such a great opportunity for you and I get to see you!” 

She had half a mind to decline, true it was an outrageously timed event that saved her reputation and life all things considered, but she had every intention of not relying on it. Nothing was permanent, she thought her last gig would be and that’s what landed her stranded and in trouble the last time. Amelie refused to make that same mistake and was already planning a backup plan should things ago awry, and she couldn’t help but feel unsure if not paranoid, as if it was all too good to be true. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. But Lena was positively beaming, pride in her chest and eyes full of wonder and joy every time she looked up at her. 

She couldn’t help it. She was weak, but this time, she was okay with that.  

“I suppose we could but...I don’t really know what to do around here...What do you do to celebrate?”

But just like that, the light in Lena’s eyes dropped, as did her face.

“I...uh…I don’t think….I dunno, I don’t think you would be into it. We can do something else...I bet there is a nice place we can go to...I uh, just don’t know where or how much or...”

Lena shoulders sagged, a look of realization washed over her that immediately brought her mood down drastically.

Amelie stopped, tugging on her hand to pull her into a stop with her but Lena kept her head down, embarrassed or ashamed, “What is it?” 

“It’s...just…”

She paused, a storefront window beside them catching her eye with a beautiful red sleek car behind it. Lena finally looked up and realized where they were and immediately groaned at the universe, the true downtown of London, she could practically feel the odd looks and sneers from the usual crowd that came around here. 

Every corner advertised top of the line beauty products that were sold more than a two months of her paycheck, gorgeous gowns and jewelry with no price tag, which alone made her queasy to even think about. Somewhere on the rooftops of London were the notorious clubs and social halls of the powerful and rich.  

She felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb in her torn leggings and beat up hoodie and yet also felt so incredibly small. . 

“What’s wrong?” Amelie asked again, this time earning her attention. 

“I mean...Ame we’re uh...different? Socially? I guess?” she started with an awkward laugh, nervously rubbing the back of her neck to look anywhere but her, though the more she looked around, at all the wealth and lifestyle so beyond her reach she couldn’t help but feel worse. 

“I mean...I don’t have the means to treat you the way you should be...I can barely feed myself half the time...If I could I would take you the nicest place with the most expensive car and wine anyone could get but…”

She gulped hard, trying to laugh it off despite the constricting twist of reality in her chest as she managed to choke out. 

“But I can’t…” 

Amelie stood there and stared at her for a long moment, her eyes narrowed as she followed her gaze and began to look around.

Quickly putting the pieces together, she scoffed.  

“What, you think because I do ballet I just do fancy restaurants? Drink champagne? Go to social gatherings with rich people?”

But Lena could only stare at her and nod dejectedly.

Amelie reached out, cupping Lena’s cheek with her free hand. “I’ve lived that life already, and while the security of having not to worry about bills was nice, the rest of it was...pretty dull.” She smiled,”Lena I promise you, sitting in a dirty alley watching you paint was the most fun thing I had going for me in a long time”

She blinked hard, processing her words so slowly Amelie could see the immense weight from her shoulders disappear as she let out a long sigh of relief,“...oh good you’re easy to please!” she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to plant an obnoxious kiss on her cheek.

“Come on. Tell me, what would you do if something like this were to happen to you? Please, teach me how you peasants celebrate,” she held up her hand and rotated it as if to grasp the very idea of what the poor folk do, over exaggerating her accent to emphasize her feelings on the matter, more than pleased when it made Lena laugh so hard she snorted.  

“...well…” 

 

* * *

 

“Car...pub?” 

That night, Lena took Amelie around town, absolutely refusing to let go of her hand the entire time, which made getting coffee and food an adventure, but one they enjoyed nonetheless. 

It would be their first proper date, the week long snog fest before she left didn’t exactly count. 

Lena took her to her favorite spots for a hot drink and corner bakeries which she swore up and down had the best meat pies. Amelie was inclined to agree as they happily ate and walked to some secret location. She had no idea where they were going, having put her trust in the girl who knew the streets like the back of her hand. 

Finally they reached an area that was mostly car parks than anything. There appeared to be some kind of concert or event happening further into the city. The traffic was godawful, and restaurants and pubs were at max capacity, but Lena weaved past it all with Amelie’s hand still in her grasp until they finally reached their destination.

In all honesty it was sketchy, the whole area was until you reached the central point of wealth but every homeless person they walked by greeted Lena by name and it was a strange comfort. 

“So listen, basically that pub I go to all the time? It’s run by my friend Lucio and whenever there is a big event he just, parks his car nearby and gives out booze,” she grinned, gesturing to the particular parking lot they stopped at. Sure enough there was quite a crowd forming around a single vehicle in the furthest corner, faint music could be heard and it was exactly as she said. 

A bunch of people talking, smoking and drinking outside. 

“A lot of these people...I mean I wouldn’t call em friends? More like acquaintances? I mean we drunkenly comfort each other when times are tough if that makes sense. But I guess I...kind of talked about you a lot and they wanna meet you.” 

At this she smiled, bringing her hand entangled with Lena’s up to her lips for a small kiss over her knuckles,”Aw...you talk about me?”

“Yeah, yeah well...is this...ok? I’m probably being dumb but I’m just...you know it’s not your style...” her words trailed away into a soft mumble as she began to shuffle awkwardly again. 

“Lena I literally drank red wine out of a flask next to a garbage can,” Amelie laughed, offering a reassuring squeeze of her hand. 

“Fair point.” 

With one last huff, Lena led the way, weaving in between parked cars to get to the other side. Lucio’s head was bobbing with the music that became louder the closer they came, and Amelie noticed him handing out cans of booze from a large ice chest from the trunk of his small car. The moment he noticed the two he snapped up and waved excitedly. 

Which gained the attention of every person there, who turned around and stared at them.

Lena’s grip tightened as she waved back with a nervous,“H-heya!”

And every single person replied back, bottles, cans and cigarettes raised high to welcome the two in slurred uniform voices.   
  
“LENA!”

Amelie blinked back in pleasant surprise,”You’re popular.”

She smiled sheepishly, hyper aware that she did in fact know every single person there.

Lucio slipped his way out of the crowd to embrace her in a tight welcoming embrace,“I was hoping you would come!”

Moments later a young blonde woman followed up with thick rectangular frames on her face and two cans of beer in her grasp. 

“Yes hello hi you both are much too sober.”

Lena couldn’t have agreed more and immediately swiped the can, impressively opening it with one hand and taking a long swig to calm her nerves. Of course it worked wonders, she sighed happily and turned to introduce her girlfriend to the few important people in her life. 

“So uh, this is Lucio and this is Allison. They own the place I’m usually texting you from.” 

“I recognize you two from the selfies,” she laughed, her request for photos during their temporary long distance relationship usually ended up with these two somewhere in the background,”Pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you Amelie! It’s great to see you!” Lucio continued to smile, quickly turning the polite hand shake into a tight hug. Lena nearly had a heart attack right then and there as Amelie stood there frozen in shock. But much to her relief, she relaxed and awkwardly returned the embrace. 

Allison pushed the glasses further up her face followed by a short shrug,“Not gonna lie we all had a part in her texting you that first week, just sayin”

Lena paled.

Memories of spending entire nights at the pub surrounded by people throwing out ideas in what Lena should text. Some not the best of suggestions, but she was drunk, they all were, and though it was a good idea at the time, most of them were responded to with a lot of question marks. 

“Oh my God.”

“What? She’s here and still hanging out with you. Clearly it worked so you’re welcome,” she shrugged taking a casual chug of her own drink as Lena brought a hand to cover her embarrassed face. 

“Did you make it to the audition?” Lucio asked, offering a lighter as Amelie pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket. 

“I did and I start in a few days”.

“That’s great! Congrats! Can’t wait to see whatever you’re in. We saw Marguerite and Armand last month and it was incredible!” 

Lena nearly choked on her beer, “You...watch ballet? You never told me that!”

“Yeah well, it’s hard to get tickets so it’s more of a treat really, but honestly it’s beautiful stuff!”

“ I go for those dancer bodies…” Allison shrugged, taking a long swig of beer as Amelie nodded.

“That’s why I do it.” 

Lena sighed, so far as good but it could be better, “Lucio! My man, my best friend, you wouldn’t happen to have something much stronger would you?”

His eyes lit up as he spun around and jumped into his car, it took him a moment, clearly something deep underneath the seats for safe keeping but he returned with two small bottles. They were in the shape of small glass potion bottles that one would find on the belt of a wandering witch, containing a dark brown liquid with a small skull sticker on the front.

“Try this! But be warned, I call it ‘Concentrated Evil’. ” 

Amelie and Lena each took one and stared at the mystery drink for a long hard moment. Lucio’s original creations were known to knock her on her ass but it guaranteed a good time. Before she could start a selling point and convince her girlfriend to trust her and take a drink, Amelie already popped the cork and turned to face her, waiting to take the shot with her. 

Lena held up the glass, though hesitant she was pleasantly surprised when Amelie stepped forward and hooked her arm around Lena’s. 

“Pinky up.” 

One “Concentrated Evil” and a couple of drinks later, Lena proceeded to collect all the empty cans and bottles to throw away. However it became so obnoxiously full, nearly a couple feet above its rim making it impossible to fit it all but drunken Lena saw it as a challenge, and proceeded to conduct the most intense balancing game, carefully fitting each can and bottle into crevices without it all falling over. 

Amelie apparently became a social butterfly when drunk, sucked into the smoking circle she spoke to everyone, curious about what everyone did and where they came from.

At some point they returned to each other, after the tower of cans fell over and the entire crowd erupted into an explosive cheer. Lena was found beside it looking rather sad - she had been intent on keeping it stable despite the trash being nearly as tall as her, but Amelie was there to cheer her up, taking her away from the fallen castle and taking a seat on the pavement with her back against the door of Lucio’s car. 

“Hello beautiful!” Lena grinned, instantly feeling better. She took a seat between Amelie’s legs and swiped the cigarette from her fingers, it was her third and most likely last one of the night as Lena leaned against her for a small puff. 

“This is nice” Amelie mumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle and resting her head against the back of hers. It was going to be difficult to get back up, drunk as they were, but that was going to be a problem for later.

“Thank you Lena, this was fun” she hummed, reaching up to pull the hoodie aside to place a quick kiss on the side of her neck. 

“I’m glad...but you know there is one more thing I would do if I were celebrating...” 

Amelie paused for a moment, a sly drunken smile growing on her face,“I really hope you say Me.”

Before that could be explored any further, Lucio’s car shifted as weight within was  moved around. The ice chests were being packed up and returned to the trunk, trash removed and music had stopped. The Car Pub was done for the night. 

“Hey guys, we’re gonna pack up soon. If you guys help out I’ll take you guys home” 

“Actually do you know how to get to that little hotel by my wall?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Lena?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to do this every time?” 

Lena paused, her lips brushing against her skin as she replied matter of factly,“Yes. Let me admire art”

She laughed, her head thumping back against the pillow and let Lena continue her post coitus ritual. 

Since the first time Amelie took her up to her hotel room Lena made it a point to spend a gratuitous amount of time around her upper right leg, where black and red ink stained her skin and took the form of a spider, a perfect recreation of Lena’s graffiti that she had sprayed on the wall in honor of their strange friendship.

Lena remained between her legs but shifted her focus to her thigh, hooking her arms around it and leaning over to repeatedly kissing the tattoo, tracing it as if to recall how she created it originally. 

Amelie sighed, her eyes closed and relaxed as her fingers toyed with the small blue hairs at the back of her neck absentmindedly. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, fighting a yawn. 

“God I love dancer bods,” Lena mumbled against her skin, her arms hugging her leg and embracing the muscle with a silly smile on her face,”I can stay here all day” 

“You know what I mean” she rolled her eyes, taking a moment of effort to push herself upwards on her elbows to look down,”...you were so nervous earlier about me meeting your friends.” 

Lena sighed, her fingers drawing indiscernible patterns along her stomach in thought, “Ah...it’s just...I still can’t wrap my head around it. You’re a beautiful gorgeous ballerina and...somehow with me? I just...was worried you wouldn’t like my friends or my lifestyle I guess…”

She kept her eyes on the imaginary art piece she was doodling on her skin, it felt silly to say it out loud but Amelie just smiled, just as she had all night,quickly erasing any twist of uncertainty in her gut. 

“I’m still the same person you met in the alley. This new job doesn’t change anything“ she said, reaching out and attempting to fix the wild sex hair though it would look no different than she normally had it. Having spent so long under the hood, the back of Lena’s head remained flat and awkward, despite the rolling around they did. It made her laugh. 

“I need you to keep me grounded” she said, sitting up right and bringing her hands down to hold her face.

“Think you can do that?”

* * *

 

 

A few weeks later Lena stood in front of the beautiful Royal Ballet Opera House for Amelie’s opening night. 

She had never felt so small before the mountain of white marble meant to stand as tall and proud like it’s Greek inspired architecture. Beautiful gowns and crisp suits surrounded her, filing in with linked arms, striding inside with such confidence and wealth for a moment she forgot to breath. The weight in the atmosphere felt like pressure against her skin, she didn’t belong here, perhaps if she made as little movement as possible no one would see her and notice.

These people wanted her behind bars, for defacing property, for loving, for existing, they had no idea she stood among them. 

Luckily she wasn’t alone.

An arm hooked around hers, Lucio, who had begged to go, wearing a nice dark green suit he bought for the occasion, hair in a low ponytail and sunglasses. Not that he needed them, they just looked cool and honestly Lena agreed, he looked like a million bucks. With one last push of confidence, the two walked in, flashing VIP passes for the best seats in the house. 

The elderly couple didn’t seem to care of the two beside them but Lena couldn’t help but feel the silent judgement. Her leg bouncing nervously as if she were behind that curtain and all eyes were on her, according to the playbill the Opera House had 2,260 seats, four tier balconies in a U shape all directing facing the stage. How Amelie did this for a living was beyond her. 

Lucio snapped a quick selfie, nudging Lena out of her own head and getting her into the picture, and sent it to Amelie.

 

_ Break a leg!  _

 

Moments later the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. 

 

Any thoughts, feelings and general awkwardness she had felt in the weeks preparing for this, the dress shopping, the hours of makeup to get it right, the insane amount of uncertainty on which clutch would work best, and the uncomfortable notion of feeling so out of place the night of was instantly the least of her concerns. 

Because there she was. 

Her mouth dropped the the ground and her heart was now on the verge of jumping off the balcony at any moment. 

More than two thousand people were watching in hushed awe at the stage where Amelie took command of the stage without uttering a single word. 

“Lucio,” she whispered though it came out a strangled squeak,”That’s my girlfriend” 

Ten minutes in he was already in tears, unable to respond as the overwhelming sway of the music and dancers meshed so beautiful he was in piecs while Lena was struggling to breath properly. 

“That’s my fucking girlfriend” she whimpered, unable to tear her eyes away as she squirmed and bit her own finger to stop herself from sprinting up and down every aisle and telling everyone this extremely important bit of information.

When it was over, when every person of every background, social status and creed were on their feet, when the house shook with a deafening thunderous applause, Lena couldn’t bring herself to stand. She was overwhelmed with inspiration and pride as they praised Amelie with cheers and flowers like she so rightfully deserved.

Even from where she was, dead center in the middle of the audience she could see Amelie’s bright eyes and wide smile, she belonged here. 

But Lena kept to her promise.

Taking her out for ice cream after the performance instead of the opening night party, the two returned to Lena’s tiny one room apartment, in which Amelie collapsed onto the small bed, groaning in pain and exhaustion as the weeks of work and preparation finally hit her full force with one performance down but many more to go. Luckily Lena was quick to supply a back rub before they both fell unconscious, flopping over the other limbs over the edge of the bed but with a smile of content.

Her fingers itched to draw, to create beautiful art and show the world how she viewed the most beautiful woman in her bed and in her arms now. She was going to be something so much more, an object of love and adoration to thousands of people all over the world, she couldn’t have asked for a better muse. 

Amelie mumbled in her sleep as Lena lay awake, overflowing with ideas of what to work on next, she rolled over, half on top of her wrapping her arms around Lena’s small frame. The Royal Ballet’s new prima donna lay asleep, her lips partial for just the slightest bit of drool to slip out onto the pillow.  

Lena laughed, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair behind Amelie’s ear,“I think I can do this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: The first chapter was a collab between me and Robohero's Graffiti AU.
> 
> This chapter was specifically what I thought the progression would be.

**Author's Note:**

> The side character mentioned (Matt) is my newest patreon! Thank you for your support!


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